


dear dirk strider, what to say to you?

by catchingtheblues



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - No Game, F/F, Kidfic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, beta kids are adults and alpha kids are children, bro is in this and he's a piece of shit, but not graphic, guardian!dave, holy SHIT that's a lot of characters but this fic is p long and some of them are just cameos, i'll enter more as the story progresses, just so y'all know, so yes this has davekat but this is primarily about dirk & dave being brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchingtheblues/pseuds/catchingtheblues
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, you’re nineteen, and congrats, it’s a boy. He’s yours now. You're all your little brother has, so you're going to do your goddamn best to raise him well.





	1. domestic life was never quite my style

You’re babysitting on a Saturday night, and your parents were supposed to be home hours ago. Dirk’s been pretty fussy, but you finally got him down; he’s snoring away. You’ve tried calling both of your parents’ phones but they haven’t answered.

Worry’s creeping in. Sure, they’re always late, but it’s been way too long. Dad’s definitely drunk (when isn’t he?), maybe he got sick? Or maybe their phones died. Shitty luck, it’s definitely just shitty luck. Nothing’s wrong.

Someone rings the doorbell and you can hear Dirk start to cry. _Dammit_ , probably Dad, drunk off his ass and forgetting that he has keys. You run up the stairs to grab Dirk, so your dad can see what he did. You’re bouncing Dirk gently on your nonexistent hip while you trudge down the stairs. Dad’s gonna get an _earful_ , because Dirk’s testing his lung capacity and goddamn, he’s got a good set.

You open the door and your heart stutters. Police officers, two of them, in navy blue with shiny badges.

“Dave Strider?”

That’s you. You need to say something, you need to say anything. Dirk’s just crying messily now, pitiful little sobs into your hoodie. You clutch him closer, like that can protect him.

“What happened?” You ask. Dirk’s grasping at the cloth like if he holds on tight enough, the whole world will get better.

“There’s been an accident.” They go on but a buzzing fills your ears and you can’t hear anything but Dirk’s breathing evening out, getting deeper as he falls asleep again. Your face is wet.

You’re nineteen, and congrats, it’s a boy. And he’s yours now.

x

There’s a lot of bullshit legal stuff that you have to go through to prove you’re a fit guardian. It was _you_ who babyproofed the house in the first place. Your parents left you money and the house, so you don’t have to worry about any of that, but you still need a job. You intern on a movie set for a new three-part series; it pays fuckall, but it’s a job. Your friend Rose comes over to babysit pretty often. You hadn’t pictured her getting along with kids, but Dirk adores her.

You get home from the set exhausted, just two months after the accident, and Rose hands you a happy Dirk who squeals when he sees you.

“He’s teething pretty bad, so I gave him some Orajel. He almost said your name, it was very cute.” She taps his nose. “I’ll see you soon, Dirk.” So formal, always. You want to roll your eyes but you kind of owe her your life/soul, so you just smile gratefully.

It’s about time for dinner, so you grab him some nasty-ass baby food (you’ve tried it all, out of curiosity, and it just gets worse every time). He loves the sweet potatoes, and you don’t know how he eats it without puking.

Well, he still pukes. That’s just a thing babies do. Yes, you googled it.

The food, as always, ends up everywhere. Dirk just doesn’t care about making a mess. He got some of the gunk in his hair and knocked not one, but _two_ spoons out of your hands. He’s too fast, and too strong. You squint at him when you get the third one. He doesn’t get metal spoons, you use these clunky brightly colored ones. Why? You don’t know. You just do these things. It’s what your parents did.

You sigh and take your phone out.

_should i use a metal spoon to feed a baby_

Wait.

_should i use a metal spoon to feed my baby_

Yeah. Yeah, that looks better. No personal reason. It’s just more clear. You don’t want Google thinking you’re feeding random babies. Just your baby. He’s yours.

That shouldn’t make you smile so hard.

Google basically tells you that you’re a fucking idiot, of course you shouldn’t feed your baby with a metal spoon, do you want them to get hurt? And if they get hurt CPS will teleport to your location immediately, because they have your search history and they’ll _know_. Then you’ll get kicked in the dick and they’ll yank him right out of your arms.

So. Rubbery plastic spoons it is. Dirk eats half of the little container and throws the rest around everywhere, a sign that he’s done, so you pick him up carefully and take him up to the bath.

You have this little plastic tub that you put in the actual tub with warm water, being careful to not make it too hot.

Before Dirk, you had vague ideas of how to take care of a baby. Mostly you listened to your parents. They hadn’t killed you, which was a pretty good start. But they still didn’t know a lot of shit. You’d babyproofed the house and spent hours reading, trying to find the right way to do things. The tub, the blended food, _everything_. Babies are so complicated.

Dirk babbles at you and you talk back to him.

“Sabgoya, blu. Do. Baaaah.”

“Yeah, work was rough. People don’t give a shit about interns. I’m everyone’s bitch, basically. I probably shouldn’t swear so much, shit. I mean! Fuck! Dammit.”

“Dah.”

“Please don’t let your first word be damn. Or any swear.”

“Goda!”

“Fair rebuttal. I think your first word should be ‘dude’, what do you think?”

“Do,” he replies, and smiles when you grin.

“Good job! Oh man, you’re gonna be the coolest baby. I mean, let’s be real, you already are. You’re a Strider, there’s no way you’re _not_. But this ups your cool points, from infinity to infinity and one.”

“Bah do guh.”

“Absolutely. You’re also probably gonna be the smartest dude in the world. I’m ready for you to surpass me in every way possible. Sure I’ll be a director, I’ll make some movies. But you? You’re gonna change the world, little dude. I just know it.”

“Yah!” And that’s definitely agreement, not just baby talk. You rinse him off carefully and swaddle him in a towel, carry him to his room. He’s pretty agreeable when you put on the diaper but suddenly decides that clothes are for the weak when you try to get the onesie on him. He’s fighting you and why the _fuck_ are his little arms so strong?

It’s because he’s got nothing to lose. A reckless baby. He’s a tiny loose cannon. Everybody watch out, because Dirk’s here and stronger than ever. Just ate some sweet potatoes and he’s ready to fuck shit up.

“Dirk, please, be reasonable,” you request. Unfortunately, Dirk is a baby, and he doesn’t give a shit. He smacks your hand away and you sigh. It’s not very cold, but definitely too cold for just a diaper. You grab a toy and distract him, yank the onesie over his head and get his arms through before he even knows what’s happening.

Dirk doesn’t care about your victory. Instead he seems very pleased with his rattle. You can understand that. You shake it and it makes noise, what’s not to like?

He’s getting tired, you can tell, so you take advantage of it and pick him up, settle into the rocking chair. It only takes a few minutes for him to fall asleep, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. Some nights are fine, no problem getting him asleep. Other nights, he won’t sleep at all.

You lay him down in the crib (on his back, you read about SIDS and cried for twenty minutes, no thanks) and walk outside for just a minute. You sit right in front of the door, folding yourself up and you take a deep breath.

The stress melts away. You’re doing fine. Dirk is happy, he’s fed and sleeping. You’re okay. You have a job, you have money, you’re being a good guardian. Everything is okay.

Another inhale, exhale. Everything’s fine. You stand and creep back into the room to turn on the baby monitor and grab the receiver, turn it on loud while you head downstairs to feed yourself. He makes some vague noises in the next couple hours, while you eat and work on a script, but he never cries.

At eleven you double-save the file and head back up. Your parents had had Dirk in a separate nursery, but you prefer to sleep in the same room with him, just in case, so you dragged your mattress into his room the same night your parents died. It’s on the floor, because every time you think about taking apart the frame, sudden exhaustion hits you. Whatever. You get to sleep right next to him.

You kick off your pants and slide under the covers.

Just as your eyes fall shut, Dirk makes a noise, and because you’re an idiot, the monitor is still on, so the sound comes out stupidly loud, which scares Dirk awake and he starts crying more, and it’s all echoing around. You switch it off and kick off the covers, struggle out of bed. You pick him up and bounce him carefully.

“Shhh shh sh, shoosh. It’s okay, Dirk. Everything’s good. My fault for leaving the monitor on. It’s all good, everything’s cool. Spooked you, huh? No biggie, I don’t have work tomorrow. We can both take naps, it’ll be great. I can already tell I’ll be tired tomorrow. But don’t you feel bad, we’ll nap. It’ll be great.”

He’s settling down a little, thank god. You rock back and forth.

“S’all good, lil bro. We’re gonna go back to bed, we’re gonna sleep in. I’ll give you some applesauce in the morning, that’s the only good one. Maybe bananas, you do like those. I don’t know why. Apples are the best fruit ever, and anyone who says otherwise is a dumbass. I _guess_ I’ll accept it if you like something else. Maybe. If it’s something gross, like oranges, I’ll be disgusted.”

He’s not crying but he’s not asleep yet.

“Oh man, with your eye color, you might just like oranges. Damn. I’ll have to accept my orange-loving brother.” You sigh dramatically. “Well, you could do worse. You could like, I dunno. _Grapefruit_. That’s unacceptable. I’m never giving you grapefruit, ever. That would be child abuse. Are you falling asleep on me? I know that’s the goal, but I’m sad you don’t take this fruit talk seriously. That’s a lie, I want you to sleep. I want both of us to sleep. There you go.”

His eyes finally fall shut and you keep rocking to make sure he stays down. When you feel brave enough to do it, you lay him down. He stirs a little but when you tuck his blanket over him, he’s out again.

You blow out a breath. Good. When you lay in your bed, you’re out pretty much instantly.

x

In the morning, Dirk’s laying on his stomach and babbling happily to himself, clutching at a stuffed crow that you’d given him. He sees you sit up and he yells happily.

You get up and change him, put him in another onesie and tote him downstairs. He’s talking the whole way and you nod thoughtfully, offer your own insight on the subjects. It definitely sounds like he’s talking about food, and that’s not at all because you’re hungry. He prefers pancakes over waffles, even though, as you tell him, waffles have built-in syrup traps.

Dirk doesn’t care. “Bloss voya mmmmed! Min nim duh.”

“No need to use that kind of language, buddy. We can keep this civil.”

“Neem!”

“How dare you.”

“Wums puh goy.”

“I can’t believe it, who’s teaching you this kind of language?”

“Moluh gos nee.”

“That’s a brash accusation, young man. I’ve actually never spoken a word in my entire life, so there’s no way you’re learning it from me.” He clearly doesn’t believe you. Fair enough. You have been known to stretch the truth from time to time.

He keeps talking while you get him into his high chair and grab some of the applesauce out of the fridge, plus one of the obnoxious green spoons. You forgot to clean up last night so you’ll have to do that after you eat.

You feed Dirk first and he doesn’t actually get it everywhere, just half the kitchen, which is better than usual. You clean him up and get him a bottle of formula while you clean up the kitchen. You spend a good five minutes on your hands and knees trying to get one stupid bit of stuck-on food off the floor. In the end you have to use your nail and then the crusty food gets stuck under.

“Fuck, that’s gross,” you whine.

“Fuh!”

“Oh fuck. I mean, shit. Ugh.” You wash your hands and take Dirk into the living room. On your days off, you’ve been keeping the baby channel on while Dirk crawls around. He can pull himself up to stand and wobble along with the couch for support, but not walk by himself. He wants to, though, you can tell with the determined set to his face. You catch him before he hits the ground and set him down to crawl.

Another fun thing that you hadn’t thought about was that babies want to eat _everything_. You read a ton about this. Apparently they explore with their mouths, which is disgusting, but trying to talk Dirk out of gnawing on a pillow is pretty much impossible.

He’s currently slobbering all over an Xbox controller. This is a favorite activity of his. He broke one, so now that’s his designated drool controller. All the rest, you put up on top of the TV stand to keep them safe from the wrath of a ten month old.

Dirk tosses the controller away and continues on his rampage, as he does. You’re curled up on the couch, the TV is on low, and Dirk’s on berserker mode, pulling himself up to his toy chest and tossing shit on the floor. He seems to be having fun, yelling happily while plastic toys nearly break on the floor. The soft toys, he clearly doesn’t like as much, probably because they won’t crack under brute baby force.

Eventually when pretty much every toy is on the ground, he gets bored and drops back down to wander around. He drags himself upright on the couch and smacks at your knee.

“What’s up, little dude? You wanna come sit with me? Let’s read a book.” You pick him up and walk over to the shelf of kid books. You’ve made the mistake before of sitting Dirk on the couch and then going to get the book (he nearly broke his neck, almost falling off the couch before you caught him) and the other mistake of trying to leave him standing while you got up to get things for him (he cries, and it hurts your soul how sad he sounds). You should be holding him all the time, or at least that’s how he feels about it.

You don’t mind, not one bit.

So you sit back down with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, a thrilling tale of a binging caterpillar, as the title suggests. Dirk slobbers on his hands and smacks the book, which gets the book nice and sticky, thanks Dirk. He’s pretty jazzed about the whole thing, shows his appreciation by shitting, which is great.

You change the diaper and goddamn, his skin’s a little red. A rash? You have diapers, wipes, and rash cream in every room, because you’re _prepared_ , so you rub some on. You’ll have to keep an eye on it, maybe take him to a doctor if it gets worse. Goddamn. You get the new diaper on and get his onesie buttoned up. He flails happily at you.

“Such a good lil bro! Look at you, no crying. You’re the best. My favorite little brother, of course. Granted, my only little brother, but if I had another, you’d still be my favorite.”

He makes a weird noise, but that’s kind of what babies do, you’ve found out. Strange little creatures. He’s pushing at you like he wants to be put down.

“My dude, my guy, my lil bro. My friend, my pal, my buddy. It’s definitely time to practice walking, get some of this wild energy out of you.” He wants to get around faster, to be capable of more destruction. You set him down on his feet away from you and hold his hands. He toddles forward and falls onto your lap, giving you a toothless grin.

You hug him for a minute. “You’re doing so good. Okay, let’s try again.”

After a few good ones, you set him back down and let go off his hands. You keep yours hovering by his sides in case he falls.

He’s unsteady, sways in place for a moment. He’s frowning in concentration, and he takes one step. Then another. All the air leaves your lungs in a rush and Dirk stumbles toward you and collapses on your thighs.

“Dirk! Oh! Dirk, you did it!” You pull him up into your arms. “You did so good, oh my god.” Your chest hurts, your heart is overflowing right now. You shouldn’t be so excited. Or… you should. Because this is who you are now. You’re not just Dirk’s brother; you’re his guardian. You get to be proud of him. That’s your job now.

You’re crying, and Dirk is squealing and you’re hugging him so tight. This is too much for your poor heart.

He yells and you set him down again, let him walk towards you over and over until he tires himself out and just clings to you. You carry him to your room but he won’t let go of you, so you make yourself a nest on your bed and curl up with him. There’s a pillow barrier keeping him safe and you fall asleep with him.

x

His first word is “dude”, a month later. You cry.

x

For Dirk’s first birthday, you invite everyone over. Rose, John, Jade, their families. You ask some of the people you can stand from work (Sollux the tech guy, who laughs at you and pats you on the back, Terezi the lawyer who visits her girlfriend Vriska, the director, they both grin and promise to be there, plus Karkat. Karkat is… You don’t know what Karkat is to you, but he’s a writer, and he’s busy).

It ends up with Rose, her girlfriend Kanaya and little sister Roxy, John, with his dad and little sister Jane, Jade and her little brother Jake, plus Terezi and Vriska. You make a ridiculous amount of food, everything that you could ever think of to put on a taco, and you even order a cake.

Vriska is slightly terrifying even in a casual setting, and you keep a close eye on Dirk with her around. Plus you don’t want Terezi smacking the shit out of him with her cane or him getting crushed underfoot, so really, carrying him around the whole time is just the best decision. You’re not clingy, fuck Rose. What the hell does she know?

A lot, but, whatever.

Roxy, Jane, and Jake are all either four or five, and get along famously. Jane’s very interested in the cake, telling you she can do better, while Roxy and Jake are trying their hardest to talk with Dirk. His vocabulary is mostly dude, no, bye, go, and Dae. You thought he was saying “day” for a few days, but he meant “Dave”. Rose taught him.

“Dae! Dae Dae Dae,” Dirk chants when you leave the bathroom after leaving him to John for a minute. “Dae.”

You go to lift him up and John pulls him away. “Go eat something, Dave. I can hold him for a little bit. Huh, Dirk? Dave should go eat.”

“Go!”

“Dirk said so, you better do it.” You stick your tongue out at John while Jake sits criss-cross next to him, speaking so fast that he’s stumbling over words. Dirk’s actually listening and flailing properly at him.

You go get some of the food you spent so long on. You’re starving and you pack away five tacos and a Coke in about two seconds. You could have done this while holding Dirk, because you’ve become a master at doing things one-handed, but even though you hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to not carry him for a minute.

Self-loathing wraps its hands around your throat and you want to throw yourself off a cliff for even thinking that.

So you make your way back to Dirk and take him from John and cuddle him aggressively. When it’s time for cake, you give him his, a tiny vanilla one all for himself, with half a can of whipped cream sprayed on. He’s _ecstatic_ and makes a huge mess. You got a chocolate one for everybody else, because chocolate is the best, and you don’t know if Dirk’s allergic yet (Google is fast becoming a second parent).

You all eat cake and the party simmers down. You put on _Sharkboy and Lavagirl_ , because Dirk adores that movie for some reason. The other kids have never seen it before and they’re hella excited about it. John makes popcorn and you don’t have a lot of furniture so half of them are sitting on the floor.

Nobody seems to mind. The movie ends and you switch on Roxy’s favorite—Wreck-It Ralph—while people start to leave. It’s almost dinnertime so pretty much everyone is heading out. John and his dad clean the kitchen when you’re not paying attention and you thank them. Pretty soon, everyone’s gone and it’s just you and Dirk again.

“Go!” He exclaims, pointing at the door.

“Everybody went, little dude. You hungry?”

“No.” Which usually means yes, so you get him in his high chair. He demands to hold a spoon, even though he can’t quite use it yet, while you feed him. Whatever makes him happy, really.

He’s really into scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes right now, especially together, which is disgusting, but who are you to judge? You’ve started making mashed potatoes in bulk, so you just gotta make eggs real quick, no big deal. You offer him some weird banana puff snacks while you cook.

Dirk’s wild for them, crunches his way through a dozen by the time you’re back with a bowl for him.

“No,” he tells you happily, waving his spoon around like a knife. You’re feeling very threatened.

“Please, good sir, allow me to feed you. I grovel at your feet, m’lord. Accept my offering of potatoes,” you beg, holding out the spoon. Dirk accepts, because he’s a fair and gentle ruler.

He doesn’t eat much, but he did have a ton at the party, so you’re not worried. That’s a lie, you’re worried. You’re taking note of it and resolving to call a doctor if it continues. The doctor gets a lot of calls from you. She actually gave you her personal number because she doesn’t want you to have to pay a copay all the time, but she’s put very strict rules on it.

Well, goddamn, you haven’t texted her today, might as well.

[ _dr peixes dirk isnt eating much what do i do_ ]

She replies not even a minute later.

[ _Does he have a fever or seem lethargic? Any other symptoms?_ ]  
[ _Wait, wasn’t his party today? He probably just ate a lot. Don’t worry, Dave. Everything is fin._ ]  
[ _*fine_ ]

She knows you too well. Goddamn. There goes your one text of the day.

[ _thanks doc_ ]

You’d invited Dr. Peixes to the party but she had a shift, but she got him some clothes anyway, sent them in a bag with glittery fish on it, which Dirk had loved.

Dirk’s looking sleepy so you clean up real quick, wipe him down and get him over to the couch for nighttime cuddles and some _Yo Gabba Gabba_ , because it’s a weird-ass show and he loves it. You sing and get him to dance a little to the songs, but he’s tired and it makes him cranky, so you stop.

“Dae,” he murmurs sleepily.

“That’s me, what’s up?”

“Dae, bye-bye.”

“I might you mean goodnight. Night-night.”

“Nigh-nigh,” he mumbles and you suck in a breath. He’s so smart, he’s so good, you’re so proud of him, and you tell him that, over and over, until he huffs at you. “Nigh-nigh,” he says insistently.

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint, you little bully. Up, up, up.” You stand and bounce him gently while you hike up the stairs. Your arms are _so strong_ since you started carrying him around. You could totally bench this kid. You could bench yourself. You could bench anything.

“Nigh-nigh,” Dirk keeps repeating, and you snort. He’s pretty much passed out by the time you lay him down, making little noises in his sleep. You turn on the monitor and head back downstairs.

Your script is shaping up pretty nicely. Karkat texts you and asks how the party was. Your heart speeds up and you reply.

[ _it was really good, dirk had fun_ ]

You add a picture of Dirk covered in frosting. He’s grinning, though, and offering you a bit of cake in his filthy hands. You’d taken it, of course, you’ll accept any gift he gives you.

[ _HE’S CUTE. SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT, I SPENT MY DAY DEALING WITH THIS._ ]  
[ _Oh, sorry, caps._ ]

There’s an attached picture of Karkat sitting on a couch, glaring at the camera, with three kids climbing all over him. Two of them are older, maybe four or five. One’s almost an exact clone of Karkat, and another has a very serious face, settled on Karkat’s lap. The third has a mop of out-of-control black hair covering his eyes, and he’s a little younger than the other two, maybe two, three.

[ _oh shit i didnt know you had kids_ ]

[ _Oh fuck no, none of them are mine. I’m just a babysitter. I was stuck with my little brother Kankri, so Sollux and Gamzee brought theirs over. _]__

__You talk for a couple hours and he says “fuck you” several times, which is definitely Karkat-speak for “I’m enjoying this conversation and you made me laugh”, which lights up your insides._ _

__But eventually you say goodnight and head up to your room, curl up on your bed next to Dirk._ _

__“Love you, lil bro.”_ _

____

x

A few months later, Dirk is walking well, completely on his own, which means the destruction only increases. You don’t have anything breakable where he can reach it, so he starts climbing, which is a new, horrifying thing you have to watch out for.

His vocabulary’s increasing, and he can say “Dave” now. He loves oranges and hates apples, but likes applesauce, which is baffling, but you allow it. You work hard and every day you come home and Dirk is so, so happy to see you, and everything is worth it.

On difficult days, Dirk’s fussy and crying and hitting you, and most of the time you just set him down to let him cry himself out. He’s usually reaching back for you and sniffling in two minutes or less.

When Rose or Kanaya can’t take him, you’ll ask Jade or John, but sometimes Karkat does it, too. Dirk _loves_ him, yells “Kat!” every time he sees him.

Some days you have panic attacks so bad you almost pass out. You don’t do it around Dirk, because he doesn’t need to see that, but you can usually hear him talking and that helps you calm down.

You spend endless hours curled up together on the couch, watching movies and playing games. Dirk thinks Skyrim is great, but he prefers Overwatch. The dude just loves D.Va, who doesn’t? Sometimes Sollux will come over to game and he’s good with Dirk, too. Plus Dirk loves Mituna, Sollux’s little brother.

Gamzee’s more of Karkat’s friend, but he’s a chill dude, stoned 24/7. You can admire that. A couple times you go to Karkat’s with Dirk, and sometimes their little brothers are there. Kurloz is quiet and Dirk likes to talk at him, but Kankri is loud and Dirk just tries to be louder. You all sit on the couch and watch Kankri and Dirk yelling while Kurloz plays with some Legos off to the side.

Things are good, you think. You’ve got a schedule going. Dirk’s happy. You’re happy.

Of course it all goes to shit.

x

“Dave.”

You look up and have to do a double take, because this guy looks so similar to you that it’s scary. Same dark skin, same nose, he’s even got shades on, even though they’re a different, stupider shape than yours. You cross your arms without even thinking about it, trying to seem more intimidating, because everything about this man feels like he’s ready for a fight.

“Who are you?”

“Call me Bro.”


	2. i'll do whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dave Strider and Bro scares the hell out of you.

“Bro?” You say, baffled. “Are we related? ‘Cos I gotta say, you look a hell of a lot like the man in the mirror, and we aren’t talking Michael Jackson here, we’re more talking about clones.”

“Yeah, we are. I’m your uncle. Heard about your parents. Shame.” His face, his voice, they don’t change at all. Something in the back of your mind is screaming, some ancient instinct is tell you _Flee, there’s a predator, he’s going to hurt you_.

“Funny, they never mentioned you,” you reply warily. You just want to go home, get off this fucking set, go see Dirk. Some irrational part of your brain is saying _Get Dirk and run_. Something feels _wrong_.

“Your mom wasn’t a big fan of me.” Still no emotion. “How’s Dirk?”

You don’t want to hear Dirk’s name come out of his monotone, cigarette stained voice, ever again.

“Good. So what do you want? Money?” You guess. You’d give him some to stay the hell away from you. You’re not even sure why he’s so unsettling. There’s just something about him that just… isn’t right, making you hella anxious.

“Nah, got plenty of that myself. I want to see Dirk.”

You can’t control your mouth, can’t come up with some dumb excuse, you just blurt out, “No.” He almost smiles, and you don’t know if you’ve ever been this scared of another person before. But you stand your ground, you don’t let it show in your face. If this bitch-ass motherfucker can hold a poker face, so can you.

“Why’s that, Davey?”

_Oh._

You’re three years old, maybe four. Dad’s drunk, Mom’s away, your uncle is here. He tries to make you swordfight and just kicks your ass over and over, gets annoyed when you cry. Dad doesn’t notice for the longest time. It’s Mom who finds out and she’s the one who kicks Bro out, who screams at him and tells him to never come back. He always called you Davey.

“Stay the fuck away from me, and you stay the fuck away from _my kid_ ,” you snarl, and when you try to walk away, he grabs your arm, hard. When you struggle, he doesn’t budge.

“If you walk away now, you’ll regret it.”

“Go fuck yourself on a sword.”

He actually smiles this time. He lets you go and you don’t quite run, but it’s damn close.

x

“Rose, I don’t know what to do. Why the hell does he want to see Dirk, anyway? All he did to me was beat the shit out of me. How the hell did he even find us? I didn’t even remember him at first!” You’re panicking, pacing around the living room. Dirk’s pretty happily smacking some toys around while Rose sits on the couch and listens to you.

“I assume what he wanted to do with you.”

“What the fresh fuck does that mean? Do you know him?” You whip around to stare at her.

“My mother did. They were… intimate. He wanted to train you. He always told her that he had to _prepare_ you. My mom told your parents after he broke it off with her, and they told him to never come back. I advise that you get a restraining order.”

“What did he want to ‘prepare’ me for?” You use finger quotes aggressively.

“To put it bluntly, Dave, he’s a very ill, paranoid man. He’s dangerous. Get a restraining order.” She stands and brushes her skirt down. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You sprawl out on the couch and Dirk comes over, paps your face. “Dave,” he says soothingly. “Dave good?”

“Of course, lil dude. We’re A-okay. Don’t worry. I don’t know how to get a restraining order, but I’ll figure it out… later. I’m hungry, you hungry?”

“Yes!”

“I’m thinking quesadillas. Good stuff.”

“‘Dilla!”

“Hell yeah. You’re so smart, learning new words every day. God, you’re the best. C’mon.” You get off the couch and hoist him up, settle him on your lack of a hip. Even though he can walk, he still wants you to carry him most of the time, and you don’t mind. It’s like a workout.

You make your food and he clings to you, won’t let you put him in his highchair, so you just settle him on your lap and tear into your quesadillas. He prefers corn tortillas over flour, because you raised him right, and he tries to feed you some of yours when he’s finished. You’re laughing and he’s laughing and for one golden moment, everything is good.

Then the doorbell rings. Dirk yells and points helpfully, so you wipe your and his greasy hands on a towel and you head over to open it. You tell yourself it has to be Rose. Bro shouldn’t know where you live.

But fuck you, of course you’re wrong, it’s the creepy-ass fucker himself. You keep a tight hold on Dirk.

“What do you want,” you ask flatly.

“Just wanted to see Dirk,” he says, and reaches out for him. Your mind overflows with sudden fear and you snatch his wrist before he can touch Dirk. “You mind letting go, letting me hold my nephew?”

“Get the _fuck_ out of here before I call the cops.” You shove him and you think, for a stupid second, that that’ll be the end of it. He’ll leave and he won’t come back. You and Dirk are fine, forever. No Bro, no shitty family, just you two and your friends. Your own little family.

Bro pushes you inside and follows after you, kicking the door shut behind you.

“No no no no,” you say, voice high and panicked while you stumble backwards. “Get out, get the fuck out.”

“That’s no way to treat family. Let me see him.”

Dirk’s confused, but he can see that Bro is upsetting you, so he’s pissed. “Go!” He yells at him, and you turn so he’s further away from Bro.

Bro’s reaching and you’re terrified, the world’s moving too fast and you hear buzzing in your ears. You can’t breathe. You exhale roughly and reel back like you’re going to punch him, but he’s expecting that, so you kick him in the dick as hard as you can and sprint up the stairs.

He’s on the ground and you get into your parents’ room and slam the door, lock it. You set Dirk down and frantically pat your pockets.

Your phone is downstairs, on the kitchen table.

“Oh fuck,” you say, breathing too fast. Can’t pass out, not now. You shove the dresser in front of the door and Dirk’s worrying, whining at you.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, okay? Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“That’s mighty rude of you, kid. You’re kinda pissing me off, actually.” He says it conversationally, like one might discuss the weather.

You glance at the window. It’s a big-ass window overlooking the yard, and you could climb onto the roof, but how will you get down? You could jump into the tree, but not with Dirk. Your racing mind goes through endless possibilities, and none of them end well.

Bro’s trying to shove the door open and you grab Dirk, wrestle the window open and climb out onto the roof. It’s freezing cold because you don’t have shoes, but Dirk has socks and a long sleeve, so he’ll be fine, that’s all that matters. You hold him close to your chest and ease along on one hand and your knees.

“Dave,” Dirk’s saying nervously.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna be fine.”

You get to the lowest point, where you used to jump off before you realized the tree was easier, back when you’d sneak out at night. It’s still a good ten feet off the ground. You suck in a breath and you’re crying, Dirk’s crying. You arrange yourself and hold Dirk tight as you slide off.

You land on your feet, knees bent a bit to absorb the impact, and left yourself fall to the side. Dirk’s forehead bashes your lip, but you aren’t broken. Your ankles fucking _hurt_ , but you landed on grass so it wasn’t too bad.

Struggling up to your feet, you start moving again. You can’t hear Bro, can’t see him, and you round the corner and go right to your neighbor’s house and start alternatively slamming on the door and ringing the doorbell.

Eridan opens the door in some designer pajamas and he’s pissed but when he sees you, his eyes widen. “Dave?”

You shove past him and close the door behind you, lock the deadbolt and put the chain on the door. Your chest is heaving.

“My crazy uncle is trying to kidnap Dirk,” you manage to wheeze out. “Call 911.” And then you slide to the floor and you sob while you clutch at Dirk.

Eridan’s sputtering but he does it, and twenty minutes later Officers Leijon and Zahhak are here, taking your statement. Nobody’s in your house, and he didn’t even have a car, the fucker must have just run. You’re still crying and holding Dirk, who’s not crying anymore but he’s trying to comfort you.

“Do you have someone you can stay with tonight?” Zahhak asks and you bite your lip. Rose and Kanaya are on some big date a few towns over, they’d take forever to get back. Eridan’s an asshole and you really don’t want to deal with him right now.

“Maybe,” you say, and you call Sollux. He, Gamzee, and Karkat live together, but he’s more likely to answer than the other two, glued to his tech 24/7.

He answers in one ring. “What?” He asks, on the edge of irritable.

“Hi, uh.” You take in a deep breath. “My uncle broke into my house and he’s trying to take Dirk and I can’t stay home tonight, can I come over?” You ask, all in one rushed breath.

“Christ,” he lisps. “Yeah, come over. KK’s here, but GZ’s out.”

“Thanks.” You hang up and head upstairs, grab clothes and things Dirk will need, plus your laptop. You get too many snacks for him and shove everything in your car. The officers escort you to the Captor-Vantas-Makara household, and Leijon gives you her purrsonal cell number (why is she making cat puns? You have no goddamn idea and you’re too tired to care) in case Bro comes back.

Exhaustion hits you right as you knock on the door. It swings almost instantly and Karkat’s there, big, worried eyes, pulling you in.

“Are you okay? Fuck, of course you’re not okay, but like, how bad is it? That sounds shitty, sorry, okay, I made food, you guys can sleep in my room and I’ll take Gamzee’s for the night. Hey, Dirk,” he adds quietly, smiling for him.

“Kat!”

You don’t even know how to respond to anything because your brain is failing you right now. “Can I shower?” You ask.

“Yeah. It’s upstairs, to the left. Want me to take Dirk?”

Everything in your body says no, you need to keep him close, but your arms hurt and you’re tired, so you hand him off. Karkat takes Dirk to the couch and you head upstairs. Your ankles still hurt a little and your head is aching, but you’re not seriously hurt. It’s just all the emotions hitting you at once.

You spend half an hour in the shower, water beating down on you, just trying to remember how to breathe properly. You wash up eventually and dry off, dress in sweats and a soft tee, head back to the living room.

Karkat’s got Dirk next to him and _The Backyardigans_ on, but he’s talking to Dirk quietly. You listen in, because you’re a nosy bastard.

“You don’t need to worry, Dave’s got it all handled. Everything’s gonna be fine. Hey, hey,” he murmurs when Dirk made a sad noise, “it’s all gonna be okay. You’re safe here. Try this.” He offers Dirk a spoonful of something.

“Yes!” Dirk says, and Karkat laughs softly.

Probably time to announce your presence. You walk more into the room and greet them.

“You feel any better? Dirk likes oatmeal,” Karkat tells you. “Brown sugar and cinnamon.” Dirk reaches for the bowl and Karkat pulls it away easily, pops some more in Dirk’s mouth.

“Oh, good.” You sit next to him and Dirk’s in your lap in half a second. “Yeah, I feel fine.”

Karkat gives you an unimpressed look. “Talk to me, jackass. Bottling it up won’t help anyone.”

You shrug.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. When you want to talk, I’m here. Can I just say that I hate Tasha? She’s such a bitch. Sorry, I shouldn’t swear. She’s a… an unpleasant character.”

“Nah, I swear all the time, no biggie. I hate her. Pablo’s alright, Uniqua is nice.”

“I don’t understand what the hell she is.”

“She’s _unique_ , Karkat.”

He proceeds to go on a rant, something he does often. When Dirk gets tired, you set him up in a playpen in Karkat’s room and you brought the monitors, so you stay downstairs with Karkat. Sollux comes out of his lair of tech and brings out some whiskey.

You fill a glass and down it quickly, ignoring the burn.

“Now, talk, shitstain,” Sollux says, dropping in a chair. The dumb show is still going.

You spill. You tell them what you remember, what Rose said, everything he did at your house. You remember it so painfully clearly. Karkat puts a hand on your shoulder at some point and he never takes it away.

“Fuck,” Sollux says eloquently when you finish.

“Yeah,” you reply. You want to make a joke about being a wordsmith but you’re tired, right down to your bones. You adjust a bit, shrug Karkat’s arm off to lean on him a little bit. You catch the edge of his smile.

“So next step is a restraining order, Nepeta can get it done quick,” Karkat says. “She’s the one who escorted you, she told us you were coming.”

“She made a cat pun? I think? Or she doesn’t know how to pronounce personal.”

“Nah, it’s a pun. She’s really into cats. And Equius loves horses. They’re both insane, but at least Nepeta has some redeeming qualities.”

Sollux snorts. “She likes rom-coms, her and KK watch them together.”

“Sollux!” Karkat almost yells. It’s not quite at his normal level of yelling, probably because of Dirk, and you’re thankful for that. “Shut up. Don’t listen to him, he hasn’t slept in like three days, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“I slept last night, asshole. KK’s into _rrrrrrrromance_ ,” he rolls the r and you chuckle. “He’s a fuckin’ dork.”

“Sollux, you would fuck your goddamn computer if you could.”

“She treats me better than you do!”

They bicker for a while and you just kinda bask in it. It’s pretty normal for them to argue—it would be strange if they _didn’t_ —but it’s almost playful. Well, not playful. More like they love and hate each other at the same time. It works for them.

Eventually you yawn and Karkat shoos you off to bed. The guy’s got about twenty pillows and thirty blankets, so you know you’re gonna sleep good. Dirk’s snoozing away.

You pass out as soon as your head hits one of the many, many pillows.

x

When you wake up, Dirk is gone.

You fly out of bed and down the stairs but Dirk’s just sitting on the couch with Karkat, eating oatmeal. Your heart moves out of your throat and back down where it belongs, and you take a second to calm down.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t even think about that. He was awake and you were still passed the hell out so I didn’t want to wake you up, sorry,” Karkat says quickly, but you wave it off. Dirk’s chanting your name so you sit next to him and let him crawl into your lap.

“Nepeta’s shift starts at noon, you can go anytime. She’ll rush it all, get shit settled quick so you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Dave,” Dirk says, buries his face in your neck. “Dave good.”

He’d started saying “good” when you kept telling him “everything’s good” every time he got upset about anything, and now he knows it’s supposed to comfort.

“Yeah, everything’s good, little dude. Don’t you worry. Can you say ‘restraining order’?””

“Strayor,” Dirk tries.

“Perfect. I love you and you’re the best.” You glance up and Karkat’s watching you, trying to hide a smile. “Aw, Karkat, you itching to get in on this love sesh? Dirk, tell him.”

“Kat,” he says, and Karkat smiles. “Good.” He reaches toward him to bop his arm.

You fuck around for a while at their house, and when Gamzee comes over Dirk goes nuts and flails until Gamzee scoops him up. You’d normally be wary, because Gamzee’s stupid tall and hella slow, spacey, but he actually pays attention when he’s holding Dirk or any of the kids.

Dirk’s babbling at ten times his normal speed, slurring words and making a lot of hand motions. Gamzee’s nodding and responding like you do. Some people babytalk to kids, but you and most people you know talk to them like they’re real people, and you think Dirk appreciates it. He gets all affronted when people babytalk, it’s actually hilarious.

“Dave Kat gahv omeal good,” Dirk rambles.

“Absolutely, li’l man.”

Dirk keeps going on and on and Gamzee nods sagely.

But eventually you have to go. You head down to the police station and you fill out a ridiculous amount of papers, and then you call a security company and try to badger them into coming by immediately to set shit up. Eridan’s using the same company and he threatens them into helping you today, like a true friend.

Well, he’s a dick, but. Whatever. He helped you out.

Everything gets fixed up and you want so badly to stay with someone else. Karkat even offers, but you know you have to go home eventually. Maybe you can move.

For now you just set up the alarm and you turn on a movie for Dirk and let him run around the living room. He’s absolutely overjoyed to be home, but he’s clearly concerned about you, keeps coming back after throwing shit around and patting your knee, “Good?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Always, lil bro. We’re gonna be so good.”

And it is good, for another week. And then Bro comes back.

x

You’re not stupid. You don’t just open the door anymore, even if it’s John texting you as he’s knocking, you look through the peephole. And you’ve told everyone multiple times to text you before they come over.

There’s a firm knock on the door and you can’t decide if you want to hold Dirk or keep him away from the door. You argue with yourself for a minute before you pick him up and look out the peephole.

Even though he’s distorted, it’s Bro, clear as day. And even through the shades, you can tell he’s looking right at you.

“Go away!” You call out, keeping Dirk close to you. “I’ll call the cops!”

And you already have your phone out and you’re texting Nepeta.

“Davey,” he says, voice calm, too calm. “Don’t make me come in there. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You send the text and the door flies open. The locks all break in one go and the door is splintered, holy _shit_. You just barely manage to leap out of the way. The alarm is screaming and you’re freaking the hell out.

“Leave us _alone_. I don’t know what the fuck you want with him but he’s _my kid_.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen. I know. It’s too late for you, but it’s not too late for him.” He’s walking towards you and you’re backing up into the kitchen, grabbing a frying pan off the stove.

Bro draws a sword, holy shit. “The world’s gonna end. It’s ended in every other timeline. It’s got to happen.”

“Fuck you, get _out_.” Dirk’s crying and your phone buzzes in your pocket. Nepeta’s going to come, someone’s going to come, you just have to stall. “What the hell do you mean the world’s gonna end?”

“There’s a game called SBURB, four kids have to play. You did it in some of them, Dirk did it in others. It ends the world but creates a new universe. Cal told me everything.”

“Who is Cal?”

“A puppet.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Maybe you can reason with him, you have to try, you have to do anythingeverything to stall. “You said timelines, right? Theory with infinite timelines is that anything is possible. What if it doesn’t happen in this one? What if Cal lied?” Puppets are inherently evil, everyone knows that.

Bro’s mouth curls down and your stomach drops.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, you don’t know anything. Don’t talk about him.”

And he’s coming closer and your mind’s going blank, the only thing that matters is Dirk’s weight on your arm. You swing the frying pan and when he dodges, you try to run past him, but he catches your arm and slams you into the fridge. Your head is spinning and the frying pan slips out of your grip.

He’s trying to take Dirk out of your arms but you’re holding tight and Dirk’s slapping at him and yelling no.

You turn to hide Dirk more and Bro just grabs you by the throat and holds you against the fridge. You’re having trouble breathing and your arms are slackening. It starts going gray at the edges but then Dirk’s grabbing at you and the world comes back into focus. You stomp on Bro’s foot and throw all your weight into shoving him back.

He catches himself on the counter and you grab the frying pan and hit him in the head as hard as you can. It’s a pretty solid cast iron and he goes tumbling to the floor. You’re breathing hard and he’s bleeding, Dirk’s saying your name and he’s scared.

“Everything’s good, lil dude. Everything is good.” You don’t know if you should leave him to run or make sure he doesn’t move, so you just watch him from across the room, pan in hand.

Nepeta arrives ten minutes later with Equius in tow, and they cuff Bro and get him into a car while he’s still unconscious, thank Christ.

The coming weeks are a lot of bullshit in court. You have to relive both nights over and over, while Bro sits there, deadly calm, and tells them about SBURB and Cal. They’re calling him crazy but there’s something in his face that you know is real. You see a glimpse of Cal and you wouldn’t normally call yourself superstitious but something weird is going on here.

You start having dreams. Dreams of yourself with your friends, creating a universe. You and Karkat, just kids, but he’s not even human. You dream of Bro being your guardian and it’s horrifying.

But these dreams fade pretty quick after you wake up and take Dirk into your arms.

So you work, you come home, you spend time with your friends. Bro’s in jail, and he’ll be there for years on assault, attempted kidnapping, and breaking and entering. And you’re safe. Dirk’s safe. It’s you and him against the world.

Dirk learns new words and new things every day. He starts to talk more and it’s almost sentences now, a few words and attempts at words strung together in an almost coherent way. You’re fluent in Dirk.

And pretty soon, it’s Dirk’s second birthday (and your twenty-first).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuckin love italics sorry lol
> 
> i have a pretty great excuse for not posting a follow up in forever: i got hit by a truck lmfao. like 100% serious i was hit by a truck and i was barely able to write for three months because i had a broken wrist n shit. also executive dysfunction, lbr, i probably could've forced myself to do stuff but... i didn't wanna.
> 
> like i said, i do have a few chapters of this written, but i'm rewriting a later one so i wanted to not post this in case i needed to change something, but it's gucci!
> 
> a friend said this chapter seems a little too easy, wrapped up too well :o/ so maybe i will actually add to it later.

**Author's Note:**

> so i have four and a half chapters written but i'll be posting slowly because there's gonna ten chapters lmao.  
> i just rly love dave & dirk as brothers? they're so good.  
> holla at me on [tumblr](http://peachykeenjack.tumblr.com)!! comments are always appreciated!!  
>  ~~the titles come from the hamilton song _dear theodosia_~~


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